Ambystoma Mexicanum
by Darkspace7
Summary: "Hey, yeah, it's me again. Quick question, say a guy came into possession of a rather interesting...'item'...and needed to get rid of it fast would a certain someone, hypothetically speaking, be willing to take it off his hands for a while?" A small one-shot in which we see how Stan Pines, through yet another lapse of better judgement, came to own a certain aquatic amphibian.


_"Hey, yeah, it's me again. Quick question, say a guy came into possession of a rather interesting...'item'...and needed to get rid of it fast would a certain someone, hypothetically speaking, be willing to take it off his hands for a while?"_

A small one-shot in which we see how Stan Pines, through yet another lapse of better judgement, came to own a certain aquatic amphibian.

Disclaimer: Gravity Falls and its subsidiaries belong to Alex Hirsh and Disney respectively. Honestly, the very fact that this is being posted on a site for _fanfiction_ should key you into the fact that I belong to neither of the before-mentioned parties.

Edit 6/28/16: Added an adorable new cover which was drawn as a sort of returned favor from a close friend of mine. Bro, you are indeed the one true Salamander Lord.

* * *

It had been sometime around late-evening when the phone started ringing.

He had just sat down at his desk, settling in for what seemed to be yet another long evening in what had become a sort of recurring pattern for him when the shrill noise caught his attention.

' _Ugh, what now?_ ' Stan thought, frowning as he set down his pen and picked the receiver off of its cradle, bringing it up to his ear.

"Hello?"

" _Hey, yeah, it's me again. Quick question, say a guy came into possession of a rather interesting...'item'...and needed to get rid of it_ fast _would a certain someone, hypothetically speaking, be willing to take it off his hands for a while?"_

The con-man paused slightly, expression knitting itself into something a touch more pensive. "That depends," He started slowly," Suppose this someone _were_ to take this 'item' off the guy's hands. What exactly would he get back for doin' such a service?" With a faint touch of wryness slipping through his gruff tone, he added, "'Hypothetically speaking', of course."

" _Seriously? Urgh...What do you need_ this _time?_ "

A snort,"I think you already know."

" _What? What're you talking about-_ " A brief hush fell upon the line, and then," _Wait. Waaait a minute. No. You can't be_ seriously _talking about...Are you kidding me?!_ " The guy hissed incredulously, " _Stan you_ know _Santiago hasn't been able to find-_ "

"Ah would'ya look at that, seems like something else _just_ popped up." He interrupted, cutting the other off mid-protest. "Though, I'm sure _busy guy_ like yourself can understand. Oh well, good luck with finding some _other_ poor sap to take that thing off your hands." He slowly shifted the phone away from himself, making it appear as though he was right about to hang up. He started a countdown in the back of his mind, only managing to make it up to three before he heard-

" _Argh wait!_ "

Stan slid the receiver back to its former residence next his ear, unable to stave away a small smirk at the other's expense.

" _...You're_ so _lucky that I_ literally _don't have time for this._ " The voice grumbled, adding a few choice swears under his breath for good measure, " _I reckon if I called in a few favours then maybe...maybe..._ " He trailed off.

"Look, I got no trouble dealing stuff of yours but first you're gonna have to get that for me otherwise it's no dice."

There was a short pause before the man on the other end sighed, " _The guys really ain't gonna like any of it but...I think I can manage to work something out. How's that sound?_ "

"Good enough. Just have them bring it over the usual place. Ya hear?"

"Yeah, yeah. Got it." The caller groused. Muttering a curt farewell to the other he severed the connection, letting his voice be replaced by drone of the dial tone.

Stan went to hang up the phone, ' _Some people, it's too easy to get their feathers ruffled. Heh, like I'm one to talk._ ' He thought with a small shake of the head. Leaning back in the office chair idle thoughts drifted to other matters of importance. One such of which being the fact that he _honestly_ had no idea as to what exactly he just signed himself up for. _That_ was cause enough for a momentary pause only to be followed with an unconcerned shrug.

' _Eh, who cares? Just so long as he ain't gonna try an shunt me outta my stuff whatever he's got can't be that bad, right?_ ' And with that little niggling of doubt forcefully silenced he reclaimed his fallen pen and set about his work, feeling rather pleased with himself as he went.

{/- **_** -\\}

He relaxed against the rough-hewn outer wall of the Shack, watching belatedly as the dying light of late-afternoon carved a slow path along the cut of the grain. Taking into consideration how late in the season it had been the amount of cash that he had managed to scam off that last batch of tourists had been a slight surprise for the con-man, but welcome nonetheless.

All in all it had been a pretty decent day.

Hearing the crunch of tires against the well-worn path Stan tore himself away from his musings and rapidly shifted attention to the busted-up old pickup truck slowly creeping its way up the drive. The battered vehicle creaked and groaned in protest as it puttered up and around the parking lot, before finally coasting to a stop not a dozen or so steps from where he stood.

The driver-side window rolled down and two sets of dark eyes peered out at him, their expressions blank and unreadable. He met this with a carefully controlled of his own, holding out for beat or two before letting the gaze momentarily flicker to the blue tarp concealing the truck bed. The driver, a large and heavily-tattooed man who operated under the name Santiago, caught his look and gruffly nodded in understanding. The man turned to his passenger and snapped out an order in Spanish before elbowing him sharply in the side, which in turn elicited a startled yelp.

The scrawnier man leveled the other a look and rubbed his at his side, grumbling something under his breath that Stan wasn't quite able to catch (though if Santiago's increasingly annoyed look was any indicator he could hazard a guess...) before twisting away and getting out of truck.

The man took his time sauntering around to the back of the junker, as if to deliberately spite his larger companion, and clamored up into the open truck bed. He tugged back the tarpaulin with a practiced ease and set about untying the lengths of rope that tethered down what lie beneath. Making short work of it, he hefted the rather heavy looking container and carted it off the pickup before setting it down some ways away. Once safely off to the side, the lengths of rope and tarp were restored and the man wove his way back around to the front. With a brisk nod signaling that the exchange was complete, Santiago let that darkened gaze flicker towards Stan one last time before shifting the old clunker back into gear and pulling away.

The vehicle having finally vanished from sight he pushed himself away from the Shack's side and crossed over to where the container had been laid to rest. With a curious eye he looked the thing over but nothing really remarkable or all that extraordinary struck him about the medium-sized wooden crate though if there was _anything_ that he had learned from the long years of swindling rubes was that to take something at face value was just plain stupid and that _nothing_ was ever as it seemed. So then, if he wasn't able to get a clue from the _outside_ then he'd just have take a little peek at the inside.

"Just hope it won't blow up in my face the moment I do." He murmured, shifting away only for a second to snag a crowbar that he had stashed underneath the porch.

' _Here goes..._ '

The metal cleaved down deep into the wood where it met with little resistance and within in minutes he was brushing off the splintered remnants of the now defunct covering. Purpose having been served, he tossed the now useless crowbar somewhere out of the way and bent down to get a better look at what he was dealing with.

The first item of note: resting precariously on an old swath of canvas was an exceedingly curious bundle which seemed to be comprised of an old and crumpled-up envelope sandwiched between copious amounts of plastic wrap and what he believed to be some form of packing tape. Having managed to free the sleeve proper from the evil clutches of its plastic prison he spared a glance down into at its contents. Seams of soldered metal tethered together miscellaneous bits-and-bobbles to form that single piece of circuitry which now sat like a rock in his hands.

He slid the item into his pocket, taking care as so not to jostle it needlessly. ' _So he actually managed do it huh..._ ' A touch of disbelief coloured the thought, ' _He musta not been kiddin' about wanting to get it off his hands but I gotta wonder_ what is _all the fuss is about..._ '

Curiosity spurring him onward he tugged the cloth away, bringing to light what strange manner of obscurity previously lay hidden. It was a...well...to be completely honest he wasn't exactly sure _what_ the thing trapped inside the waterlogged tank was.

It appeared to be a creature that could possibly have been mistaken for some manner of salamander were it not for a few small but key differences, such as the size, colouring, or perhaps even the presence of those odd frill-like appendages that branched out and off to the side of its skull. Glass-bead eyes stared unwaveringly back from the recesses of the grimy tank, their empty cast gave one the feeling that they were gazing into the void itself.

' _Is this thing even alive?_ ' He wondered,

A careful tap on the glass provided that: yes, it was in fact alive, and no, it did _not_ care for people tapping on its home if the agitated skittering was any indicator. This continued on for another minute or so before it seemed to settle down and default back to that eerie stillness in which it had first appeared. He fought back a shudder.

Just what the heck was he supposed to do with this thing anyway? It's not as if actually he knew how to care for whatever it was, nor did he particularly _want_ to, and setting it up as some sort of an attraction was _definitely_ out. Because, really, who would be so dumb as to actually let themselves be swindled out of all their hard earned cash just for a quick look at that ugly mug? For a town filled with complete idiots even they couldn't be _that_ stupid, right?

' _Well..._ ' He pondered this question for a brief moment before coming to the conclusion that yes, they probably were.

"Alright, listen up you little runt." He leveled a stern finger towards the amphibian, "If I catch you tryin' to pull any funny business you're gonna regret it, you hear?"

"..." It opened it's mouth a small fraction and shut it again.

' _Yeah, that's what I thought_.' Stan nodded, satisfied with the creature's apparent answer (or lack there of). ' _Might as well find something to call the dang thing while I'm at it._ ' He drummed thoughtfully on the rim of the crate, ' _...How about...Lyra? No. Lester? Nah. Not that..._ ' The drumming stopped. ' _Hm...maybe_. _..I think that'd work..._ '

Taking care as to not slosh too much of the stagnant liquid out of its home and get it onto himself he lifted the tank into his arms. He quickly glanced down at the small creature to see it resettle once more as the movement died down. "...So...How do'ya feel about the name Leslie?"

It said nothing.

"Great! Come on. Let's get inside and see if we can't drum up a little something for those saps."

"..."


End file.
